Ouldrummr had lost track of the days. Once, the kingdoms who had imprisoned him here had been so polite as to leave a crack in the ceiling, so he could see the sun rise and fall. But since then, something had covered that hole. He knew it wasn't his wardens; they had long since abandoned the temple. Despite their differences, it wasn't uncommon for his wardens to speak to him. It seemed they knew he was conscious inside his seal. They would tell him their problems. He didn't mind. Ouldrummr knew better than to hate his enemies.
He had been bred for war. A creation of magic and science, destined to lead the Kingdom of Elrud. And he had. For centuries, he was uncontested by anyone. But he had threatened too many and made too many mistakes. The other kingdoms of the world bore down on him like a furious storm and sealed him away in this temple. For some reason he never understood, he never hated humans or fairies. No matter how much they hated and ridiculed him. He could never find it in his heart to hate them.
As his mind wandered for millennia, he was forgotten in the outside world. His only visitors now were cave spiders and the resurrected corpses of his deceased soldiers, who had been buried at his side. It wasn't too long before he found his body covered in foliage. The greenery wasn't uncommon, either. It had slowly been creeping in for ages now. He figured that maybe a forest had grown outside. The cave spiders had betrayed him, though. Has it truly been that long? Was he underground now? It didn't matter. There was a point when he had decided he was never going to see the daylight again. His captors swore it. He was beginning to believe it.
It was that same day when something unbelievable happened. A blind swordswoman and a small, green-haired fairy sliced through the foliage that had accumulated at his holding chamber's entrance. They seemed fascinated by him. He stood taller than both. His features were neither human nor fairy. When they spoke, it was a language that he did not understand. They seemed to admire the craftsmanship of his form. He thought, perhaps, they knew what he truly was, but he soon realized that they only saw the stone. There was no king behind it, only a creature they did not know of beforehand.
It was the first time he had ever seen explorers, but he thought little of it. Adventurers and vagabonds had existed in his time, after all. When they left, he was only happy to know that his existence was still realized by the outside world, even if they could not free him. He wondered what they knew that he did not. What discoveries had been made in the ages since his imprisonment? He figured he would never see them again, but he made sure to recall the faces of the first who had ever discovered him. But then, what he had only assumed was the next day, the small fairy had returned. She carried a basket of flowers that she left at his feet. She spoke to him. He still didn't understand. But at that point, he was fascinated by her. Was she aware of who he was? It didn't seem so. His history was nothing more than writing in a book by now.
Day after day, the girl returned. She always left flowers by his feet. He could not smell them, but he slowly became more and more sure that they carried a wonderful scent. The girl had a pure heart, that much he knew. She was so sincere. At some point, he began to understand. "You know, Bob," she would say, "I'm so glad you're always here to listen to me." And then she would smile brighter than the sun, and his life was once again filled with light. It was as though the sun had never gone away those eons ago.
Ouldrummr listened to the girl for months. Wisteria was her name. She came every day to tell him what was happening outside, not even knowing he understood. Her friend had been building a tower in the cave outside to help her continue her studies. She was a witch, he had learned. They lived under a kingdom called the Enola, who had promised to keep their presence secret. It seemed fine, out there. The kingdoms were still at war, but Ouldrummr didn't recognize any of them. They weren't kingdoms he had once fought against.
One day, Wisteria discovered Ouldrummr's sword. The Absolution, it was called. When she showed it to him, it hadn't dulled or rusted at all. It was as much of a work of art as when he had it forged. She left it at his feet, with flowers. It was very polite of her. Never again in his hand, but always nearby and as pristine as ever.
It was a peaceful life, with her talking to him. It never got boring. He enjoyed listening to her stories. Her affectionate nicknames like Bob and Richard. He didn't know what they meant, but he didn't mind. It was sweet, as ridiculous as it sounded. One day, though, Wisteria asked for his permission to test a spell she had learned on him. He couldn't say no, but he also couldn't say yes. From what he had heard, she wasn't *great* at magic, but oh well. He may as well see if magic had evolved at all.
She carefully drew a circle around his feet from chalk. She then laid some herbs and flowers by his feet and began speaking in another language he didn't understand. He never heard it before. At first, nothing happened. She seemed disappointed, but only then, the room erupted with light. Wisteria looked away, unable to handle the intensity. Ouldrummr, of course, had no choice. It hurt, but when it was over, he felt stronger. He felt as though the burden that had been laid on him ages ago was beginning to lift.
She had lifted the seal. As she looked on in disbelief, the stone coating Ouldrummr's skin cracked, and his crimson flesh felt air for the first time in thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of years.
